


Riding High

by mehitabel



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 10:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1646048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mehitabel/pseuds/mehitabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which poor Walt possesses at least one iota more of emotional intelligence. </p><p>Goes canon divergent during "Say My Name", some canon elements from "Gliding Over All" and "Blood Money", these parts are in flashbacks. Mostly it's set sometime later in some vague, alternate, season 5-B.</p><p>Basically I got some ideas in my head that just couldn't work out if Walter killed Mike.<br/>So Mike lives :)<br/>But he doesn't stick around :(<br/>Sorry…<br/>Somehow, I'm (still) a diehard Walt/Jesse shipper.</p><p>One day I remembered how, when watching the first time around, during "Down" when Jesse's motorcycle gets stolen, at that point I was all "oh no, that is just too much...the poor kid..."</p><p>I wanted to rectify that small thing and one thing led to another.<br/>Rating might go up in future chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Riding High

**Author's Note:**

> I started this months ago, took forever to get to this point mainly due to RL, but also because it was originally just going to be a short PWP, then it metastasized or something.  
> Probably because I felt the need to justify things, or I just couldn't get up the guts to dive into the porn.  
> Or both.  
> Now I'm sort of at a cross roads with it and I'm not 100% sure if I still want to go slashy with it or just keep it platonic (albeit with slash undertones) and stick to emotional drama…
> 
> I'm thinking I'll wait and see what the feedback is like, leave it up to a vote of sorts...?
> 
> Not beta read, so, sorry for bad punctuation (I do that) , run-on sentences (I do that too) , spelling errors etc.  
> Or for just being dull. There is so much stellar work here I'm embarrassed to post this.  
> This is my first time doing this sort of thing ever, first fan-fic ever, for anything. Have mercy. This fucking show did strange, sick things to me. And I like it.

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

**Walt watched, vigilantly, as the delivery van was backed slowly into Jesse's driveway. He glanced warily at Jesse's front door, checked for movement at the windows. No sign. It was early enough on a weekend morning that the only other activity around was the neighbors' lawn sprinklers. He checked his watch and looking at it, began to wonder vaguely about his own motivations.**

 

**"…what is it with you guys?" Mike's words echoed through his mind, yet again, the memory leading him to mull over their last interaction among the trees by the riverbank.**

 

\------------------------------------

 

"…we had a good thing…we had Fring!…it was perfect…but no!You just had to go and blow it up… _you_ and your _pride_ and your _ego!_ …if you had done your job, known your place, we'd all be fine…"

 

"We? Who's ' _we_ ' Mike?" he'd snarled, shaking with rage and contempt. "Are you already getting so senile that you can't remember what happened a few months ago? What, _exactly_ , would you have had me do differently? Should I have allowed Gus' thugs to gun Jesse down in the street? Or maybe I should've handed him over the next day, _then_ we would've been square right?! Yeah, and I could've just gone on happily cooking in peace - sure. I know _you_ would've been okay with that - _then_ \- right Mike? Just a little clean up job on Jesse for the boss? No, no, I know - I should have just laid down in the laundry and let you kill me. Of course! _We_ would _all_ be _perfectly_ fine right now if Jesse had not shot Gale. Who do you think you are kidding with your self righteous bullshit…WE my ass!"

 

The old man had snorted, rolled his eyes at the tirade and looked out over the reeds like he wasn't listening. "You're not kidding anyone with the way you talk about that kid, Walt." He'd said eventually, quietly, almost as if to himself. A beat, then he turned, squinted at Walt. "Maybe _yourself_ …but if you give half as much a shit as you'd like to _think_ you do, you'll let him go and bring this whole thing to an end."

 

Walt had pulled the gun then, taking immense satisfaction in the shock on Mike's face. "I need those names. WE need those names. Whether Jesse's out or not, whether I end operations or not, it doesn't matter. We can't afford the risk."Veins bulged and sweat ran down Mike's temples but he didn't budge. "Listen, I'll even make you a deal. Your cut, the five that was just confiscated? I'll replace it. Yeah, Mike, I'll make you _whole_. You can call Saul when we're done here and give him whatever instructions you want for when I hand it over to him. C'mon Mike…think of Kaylee." Mike had relented ultimately, still seething and looking like he just might have a stroke from suppressed fury. Walt just hoped that didn't happen before all the names had been angrily scrawled out on a notepad from Saul's office. Afterwards he'd held the gun on Mike as he walked backwards to his car. He got in, started the engine, rolled down the window and tossed the gun into the dirt. "Sorry." he said, before tearing off in a cloud of dust.

 

\------------------------------------

 

**The van's loading door was opened and a large wooden crate was carefully dollied down the lowered ramp by three large men. One of them asked if he wanted the crate unpacked and he nodded silently, absently. They set to work as Walt stood, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, appearing to scrutinize every move even as he mentally drifted over the preceding months.**

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

"…let him go and bring this whole thing to an end." He _had_ let Jesse go, hadn't he? It wasn't as if he could actually stop him. Sure, he'd tried every tactic he could come up with to persuade his partner. He found it infuriatingly irrational, after all they'd been through, to walk away now, on the brink of real success. But the sacrifice for that progress, the incident with the boy on his bike, had taken too high a toll, the delicate balance they had enjoyed, all too briefly, was broken. It got ugly and they parted ways angry. Walt found himself struggling to suppress the resentment in his instructions to Todd, silently cursing him just for being there, for being the _reason_ for being there, where Jesse should be. At the end of the day, he'd curse himself, for not anticipating some random bystander in the middle of the desert, for not having lookouts stationed and some way of deterring potential onlookers, for not thinking to find out who was packing. He had allowed himself to become distracted, enjoying the heady rush of it all too much, too emotionally engaged to focus on the details.

 

And so he became the very embodiment of focus, a machine churning a relentless rhythm of move in, set up, cook, pack up and move out. Compensating for Todd made it especially exhausting even as it further fueled his determination. He kept track of the cash just enough to set aside two million from each take. Once he'd accumulated ten, he handed over five for Mike's cut, to Saul, who scrambled to collect himself and conceal his obvious surprise. Walt then decided to deliver Jesse's cut himself.

 

Two awkward minutes in his former partner'spresence and he almost wished he hadn't. He'd anticipated this being the last time he'd ever see Jesse and had gone in intending to offer some sort of apology, some admission to missing him by way of excuse, but the cold, stiff reception put him instantly off course and all he could manage was a reference to their old RV. Jesse played along, briefly, with the lame attempt at lighthearted nostalgia but was unmoved. Walt wasn't sure if Jesse was barely bothering to repress residual anger over their last argument or if he was concealing something else. Then again, Walt thought, maybe it was he, himself, who was unmoving, stuck in the past, while Jesse had simply moved on.

 

Still, it was some reassurance to see that he was essentially okay and apparently abusing little more than marijuana and the usual, legal substances. He was also somewhat illogically pleased that Jesse had not already skipped town, he'd half expected him to go trailing along after Mike somehow. Walt chose not to tell Jesse about the deal he'd made and the fact that he'd just made good on that promise, deciding it would be better that he find out himself, as Walt was sure Jesse would. As he promptly did. Saul had called Walt two days later with the story on Jesse's guilt trip induced mission to the office and the two duffle bags of cash he left in his wake.

 

"How did he strike you?" Walt asked, utterly unfazed.

 

"He didn't actually, although there _were_ a couple moments there that I thought I should probably call Huel in…"

 

"His demeanor, Saul, what was it like?"

 

Saul huffed with annoyance at the complete lack of humor. "He walked out and left five million in cash sitting on my floor. Doesn't that just about sum it up?"

 

"You told him about the deal with Mike?"

 

"Yeah - As much as I could, legally that is. Confidentialities and all."

 

"How did he react? What was his emotional state?"

 

"eh…I don't know, all of them?"

 

Silence.

 

"You want me to run down the list? Look I have other commitments today, okay? If I'd been able to schedule this little visit, like I do with _most_ of my clients, hint-hint, I could have just taped Pinkman's audition reel instead of describing it."

 

Silence.

 

"uh…Christ…okay fine, let's see, first I think there was shock, then disbelief…suspicion I guess, anger…eventually a sort of, um…stunned acceptance, then relief, something _almost_ bordering on what passes for joy with him, then maybe a little more guilt or self loathing…more anger… or maybe just confusion? I'm not sure, he got hard to read for a little bit…and then he just got kinda flustered and stormed out. Satisfied?"

 

"I'll swing by to pick up his cash in a few hours."

 

 

 

\------------------------------------

 

**The crate was now almost fully disassembled, revealing a large, black, italian motorcycle, looking loud and vicious just sitting there. An elderly couple in color coordinated velour jogging suits passed along the sidewalk, slowing somewhat to glare scornfully at the scene, then, seeing Walt, they gawked for a moment before recovering composure. The woman waved and smiled, the man gave a thumbs up. Walt took no notice, staring intently at nothing in the middle distance.**

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

Jesse had looked sullen but unsurprised when he opened his front door, shook his head and then slunk away to the couch, leaving Walt to carry his bags in. It stung enough that Walt was taken abackfor a second before making a point of dropping them on the couch right next to him, their weight jostling his listless frame a little. What really got to Walt was that he knew - that Jesse knew - that he was sure to find out from Saul sooner or later. What reaction was he expecting exactly? Or rather, more importantly, what reaction did he want? When he eventually got Jesse to respond he was reminded once again of his ex-apprentice's uncanny knack for feigning a short attention span while simultaneously making a mental record of every word he spoke, if only to throw them back in his face at the perfect opportunity. That and his own apparent compulsion to keep handing Jesse more ammunition. He was silent for a while, trying to choose his words carefully this time, reminding himself to stay on point, to dodge any slings and arrows without returning fire. He could not fuck this up, again.

 

He sighed wearily. "Jesse, it's _all_ bloody and dirty, every red cent that circulates through the global economy." He said with a resigned, sweeping gesture. After a pause, he shook his head and continued as if thinking out loud, "It'sso easy to forget, or to take shelter in ignorance, living here-in the 'developed' world, but I can guarantee you that every dollar that ever passed through our hands - even before we ever got into… _this_ …had some sort of dark history. Sure it all gets put through the wash, changes hands, changes currencies…but it's still stained. Wars, economic oppression, corrupt governments and corporations, slavery of all kinds, exploitation of the weakest…of the very planet we _live_ on. It's all tied up in all of that and we don't need to do anything illegal or immoral ourselves to be a part of it…Yes it's indirect, but all the seemingly insignificant little choices that ' _regular_ ' people make, every day…they all add up and help feed the machine, making everyone complicit." He stole a glance at Jesse who still had not looked directly at him but had slowly shifted to angle slightly towards him and was now staring at Walt's shoes, arching and furrowing his brows occasionally as he listened. Walt continued.

 

"I swear it's like you can't buy a damn _t-shirt_ without having contributed to someone's suffering. Not that it's intentional, it's just difficult to avoid without becoming _obsessed_ , or truly radical. Lots of people try to do their best though, making thoughtful choices, charitable contributions… Then there are those who are fully aware of what the consequences of their actions will be and they make their choices purely on profit…But that's the thing, Jesse _you_ didn't intend for _any_ of these awful things to happen, you did your best, hell you devised a brilliant plan _specifically_ to avoid any sort of violence…and you tried to stop it…but it just, it got out of control…and I'm…I'm sorry that I didn't see it coming. I should have anticipated something like that. I didn't contribute my part…"

 

Jesse sniffled loudly, suddenly and shook his head, worked his mouth a little like he wanted to speak but gave up with a vague, quiet sound of protest. Walt took a deep breath. Careful now, he thought. He felt the urge to reach over, maybe just lay his hand briefly on the kid's head but he'd noticed the tightly controlled recoil when he'd touched a shoulder earlier and thought better of it.

 

"I wish it could be undone, there's so… _so much_ , that I wish could be simply… _undone_. But that's not possible. Jesse, I know you are a compassionate person and I know you're just trying to do the right thing here but _come on_ now, imagine you're that boy's parents, how are you going to feel if a bag of over two million in cash shows up on your doorstep after your son has just disappeared?" Jesse heaved a shuddering sigh and Walt hesitated, proceeded with caution. "You know, actually… maybe it would help if you did a little charitable volunteer work." Jesse looked straight at him now, blinking his eyes clear. Walt offered a small, hopeful smile, a shrug. "Yeah, I mean, why not? You've got the spare time now right? It would be good, you would actually be doing something, _contributing_ something that would help bring some good into this world. That's worth more than just money… and…" he tilted his head, gave a gentle smile of knowing self deprecation, "at the risk of sounding opportunistic here…it certainly wouldn't hurt your image, so to speak, your _record_."

 

Jesse cleared his throat, spoke tentatively but with an edge of sarcasm, "What, you mean like, The Peace Corps or something?"

 

Walt smiled, "Exactly, you can start small though, at your…comfort level. There's things like community gardens, some that help feed the less fortunate…non profit art programs for disadvantaged kids, _all_ _sorts_ of options…" he paused, considered a moment as Jesse gave a week nod. "If you want, we could probably set up a fund, through anonymous donation, for missing children, in Drew Sharp's name and with part of it set aside for his family. That would be a better way to go about it."

 

"Yeah? Would that work?" He was fully at attention now.

 

"I don't see why not. I'm sure Saul can help us set it up - but Jesse, you've got to hold onto some of that money, it's not just that you earned it, you _need_ it. At _least_ enough to live on for a while…pay for some schooling so you can find your own footing and probably…get out of here, out of state I mean, to get clear of any…potential fall out. But we don't need to go down _that_ road just yet - just, you _have to_ take care of yourself. Giving it all away would just be self destructive and you're not doing the world _any_ good by being self destructive. So listen, you put in one twenty five and I'll match you for two fifty, to start with anyway, okay? Believe me it's no problem for me and I would appreciate it if you'd _let me_ do this. I would feel better. The other part…Jesse, Mike and his grand daughter will be _fine_ , that's taken care of…frankly, if you go throwing money at her too and if he ever found out it was coming out of your cut?…Christ he probably _would_ come after me, so, I'd also appreciate it if you not put me in danger of having Mike up my ass again."

 

This, finally, earned a small smile. Jesse cleared his throat."Saul told me about the deal you made with Mike. That was…that was decent…that was good. Thank you."

 

Walt felt a lump in his throat along with a simultaneous and conflicting ache in his chest suddenly.

 

"I have to be honest," Jesse continued "after the…thing with the guys in prison, I was… pretty much convinced you'd killed him."

 

"Well…" Walt frowned a little, hitched his eyebrows up with a slight shrug, "…I'll admit…he made it quite tempting."

 

Jesse gave him a soft laugh, a knowing look and nearly grinned.

 

When Walt left he'd driven around the corner and parked for a few minutes, slumped forward in the seat, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. He felt somewhat winded, drained, his heart pounding a bit too hard, as if he'd just had a narrow close call.However, he did feel relieved and later returned to work with renewed vigor, satisfied that Jesse was stabilized after setting up the fund with Saul. He snapped at Todd less, sulked at home less, even slept a little more and tolerated the chemo better. The cooks rolled along and the cash piled up mechanically until the night Skyler confronted him with the mountain of stacks in the storage facility. Surveying it, Walt saw a pile of corpses, bodies in lined up barrels, rows of caskets, a field of gravestones…willed the residue of death and destruction to be absorbed into his own soul like a chemical IV drip so that this may be passed to his family, his children at least, clean, protecting their blissful ignorance. The sudden acknowledgement of the burden along with the reality that he had little time left was staggering. Enough was finally enough.

 

 

\------------------------------------

 

**A group of children passed on a parade of bicycles and scooters. They paused to admire the motorcycle and asked if they could have the remains of the crate for their fort. The delivery men made as if to check with Walt at first but seemed to think better of it and waved the kids on dismissively.**

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

 

It hadn't really been that long since he'd last seen his former partner, three months or so, although it felt long after getting accustomed to seeing him nearly every day. Their only contact since had been the daily texts from Jesse that Walt had insisted on as a way of checking in, confirming that he was still alive and not in jail. Jesse had griped half-heartedly but complied.

 

"im cool"

…

"just chillin"

…

"hey"

…

"still cool"

...

 

He'd forgotten a couple times, prompting aggravated texts and then, when those were not answered immediately, panicked voice mail from Walt. He'd texted back then with apologetic excuses. Eventually it became routine, until Walt expressed worry that the texts were not solid enough evidence of Jesse's safety and non-incarceration, as anyone who could get ahold of Jesse could have his phone and be sending generic stoner texts with Walt none the wiser. Walt wanted to devise some sort of secret code but Jesse's solution was simply sending daily mundane pictures of himself.

 

eating breakfast (at 12:00 pm)

...

planting vegetables with some old hippies

...

brushing his teeth

…

sitting in Saul's office to check up on the fund

…

shaving

…

standing in a soup kitchen in chef whites

...

smoking a bowl

...

 

This became the new routine. The last one he'd apparently taken immediately upon waking, although it had arrived late at 12:15 pm. He was in bed, looking drowsy, disheveled, shirtless and comfortable, half bundled in a tangled mass of bedding. His hair had grown out a bit, arrayed haphazardly against the pillow, filtered sunlight glinting on the dirty blonde spikes and the lashes of his half closed eyes, the faintest sleepy smile on his lips. Walt's thumb had hovered, hesitant, over the delete button for several seconds too long before he realized it with a sudden start and hit the button with such hurried force he'd fumbled and dropped it. This bothered him all day. The cheap disposable had broken so he'd stopped to pick up a replacement at a tacky burner booth that was temporarily set up in a parking lot. He'd noticed the motorcycle dealership across the street.

 

\------------------------------------

 

 

Was this beast of a machine he'd just purchased the spawn of a massive guilt trip?He glanced at his watch again reflexively. A case of one-upmanship? An unsubtle ploy for loyalty?

This had nothing to do with the business, this was just…what was it? It just felt right, he decided. Fair. Not that Jesse couldn't purchase such a thing himself, he certainly had the means now…oh shit, what if he had? That shitty little beater of a car was still parked in the driveway… he would get a new _car_ first, before a motorcycle, _wouldn't_ he? Walt felt the first real tingling of regret over this decision. Would it appear… _desperate_?

 

He was snapped back into the present and out of a looming panic attack as he was presented with the delivery receipt for signature. The van was pulling away, leaving Walt standing there alone, staring at the thing, as Jesse emerged from the front door like he'd just rolled out of bed, bleary eyed in a rumpled white t-shirt, black & grey plaid pajama pants and flip flops. It was early…ish…another glance at the watch. 10:30 a.m. now. Walt had been grateful the gate was open, half hoping to simply deposit the gift, locked up in the driveway, the keys with a note on the front door, avoiding any actual interaction. Half hoping.

 

"What's uh…what's the deal...with this?"

 

Walt turned, somewhat startled, he'd not noticed Jesse approaching. He paused a moment, darkly amused at Jesse's expression, which was mildly annoyed, still groggy but increasingly worried as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, dragged his hands over his face, brow tensing and eyes hardening as if he was imagining whatever twisted scenario might require the disposal of this machine and wondering why Walt was trying to drag him into it. Walt gestured grandly, a genuine grin spreading over his face, "This," he said "is for you."

 

Jesse's expression didn't change as he blinked at Walt, shifted from foot to foot, flitted his eyes from the bike to Walt and back and forth again. "Say what?" It was becoming enough to make Walt uncomfortable. "It's for you." he said bluntly. Then, in the face of Jesse's stunned silence he began to ramble. "As I recall, yours was stolen, way back when… and I thought, perhaps, well…I have no idea when your birthday is but I figured… of course if you're not 'into' that anymore…" and he broke of with relief as Jesse finally responded, "Oh my god, oh…my god you cannot be serious, you can't - wait - look me in the eye - oh holy fuck…" Jesse crept over to the thing as if it might get skittish and began circling it."A fucking Ducati?! A Ducati Monster. For me. You _are_ insane!"

 

"I never denied it." Walt muttered, mostly to himself.

 

But Jesse was all lit up now. At least much more so than Walt had seen in a very long time and for a moment, with birdsong and the scent of freshly mown lawns in the clear morning air, Walt allowed himself to bask in the glow with satisfaction.

 

"Well, actually…" he said, coming around, "on one condition."

 

Jesse's countenance fell instantly, he gave an "oh of course" neck roll and well coordinated eye roll, shot Walt a bitter look but quickly let his disappointed gaze drift to the pavement. Walt guessed at what he was waiting to hear: That you come back. To cook. He swallowed down an angry, defensive urge and let the pause hang dramatically as he walked to his car and took a box from the passenger seat.

 

"On the condition," he announced as he returned, "that you never so much as sit on that thing without wearing this." He brandished the new helmet at Jesse emphatically and there it was again, the instantaneous reaction, the jolt of energy. "You're serious?" Jesse said, almost breathlessly. Walt nodded and Jesse rushed to him, seized the box and tore it open, tossed it aside and holding the helmet in one hand, he threw his arms around Walt who barely had a chance to return the hug and wait… was that?

 

"Yeah-Sorry! I've got such a damn hard on now!" Jesse shot over his shoulder as he broke away and darted over to the machine, grinning wildly, he straddled it and began gingerly peeling away the protective film that covered its matte-satin black body here and there. "Ooooh mia bella, Im-a gonna be-a so good to you…" he purred with an exaggerated rasp, stroking the tank.

 

"I am serious Jesse," Walt said as he went around picking up the discarded packaging. "If I ever catch you riding around without a helmet…"

 

"You're gonna what-spank me?" Jesse cut him off with the retort but shoved the helmet over his head, flashing a foxy smile, and as he snapped the visor down Walt caught a look in his eyes that was something like playful.

 

"I'll have it…confiscated…or something…I have my ways…" Walt trailed off as Jesse draped himself over the motorcycle and began to writhe and grind in a deliberately comic display. Walt rolled his eyes but couldn't resist a smile, it _was_ a ridiculous sight, Jesse in pajamas and helmet, mock-humping the thing's seat. "Okay then. I'll leave the two of you alone together now." He said, heading for his car.

 

"No no no wait! Yo-Wait!" Jesse leapt off the bike and jogged over to him. "I'm just fucking around, kidding, don't just take off. Can't you uh… hang for a while? No one else is here..I'm not doing anything. Have a few beers, I dunno…something to eat? I mean, if you're not busy…"

 

Walt shrugged, careful not to seam over-eager. He had, in fact, nothing else planned for the day. "Sure, for a while, why not?"

 

"Cool…cool…gimme a hand with this yeah?" He handed Walt the helmet so he could finish removing the remaining bits of packaging from the bike and rolled it further up the drive.

 

"You're sure you don't want to take it out for a spin now?" Walt asked as Jesse closed the gate. Jesse looked at it wistfully and sighed ever so faintly, but he turned back to Walt with an openly innocent expression and shook his head a little, "I can wait. Come on in."

 

 

….….….

 

 

Rummaging around the big, barren kitchen yielded funyuns, stale pretzels and chips, cheese dip and salsa, along with a cold six pack from some old "guests" that Jesse was thankful he had left sitting around in the bottom of his fridge for months. The conversation flowed more easily than either expected, the motorcycle providing a good topic. They wound up parking themselves in the driveway on lawn chairs to look at it as Jesse rattled off various little factoids to illustrate just how superior it was to his old bike and mused about the customization ideas he was already dreaming up. While not particularly keen on motorcycles, Walt, as a casual automotive enthusiast, enjoyed the opportunities to casually slip in a few scientifically educational notes which Jesse actually expressed interest in. He told Jesse about his little adventure with the first car he'd bought for Junior and enjoyed telling the story so much more so than when he had to tell Saul. Jesse found it hilarious as well as further proof of Walt's tenuous grip on sanity. The beer supply dwindled rapidly as they talked bikes and cars so Jesse switched to pot to save the beer for Walt, who took to gently grilling him about his plans for managing his money, "…you can't just keep using a duffle bag as a bank…" and using it wisely, "…what about furthering your education?" until Jesse steered the conversation around by inquiring about Walt Jr.'s college plans and then the talk veered into Walt's wrecked home and family life.

 

"Oh no Jesse don't go there…you don't want to see an old man crying in his beer."

 

"That bad?"

 

"Well…it hasn't really improved since, um…"

 

"…since you 'invited' me to dinner? …or whatever that was…" Jesse finished under his breath.

 

"mmmhhhmmm…" Walt made an affirmative noise with a hint of embarrassment, stared at his bottle, sighed defeatedly. "Sky's been…tolerating…me…apparently. I suppose it's about the best I can hope for now."

 

"Ok, I know it's really not my _place_ or whatever - but - when did it all start? I mean, it's all because of - 'the business' - am I right? If you can toss away money on that-" he gestured at the bike then to himself, "-for me? Seems you can afford to just…"

 

"I _am_ out."

 

"What? For good?" he gave Walt a scrutinizing look.

 

Walt nodded slowly but firmly. "For. Good." His voice had begun to take a bitter tone. He went for the last beer.

 

"The hell? When? Why didn't you tell me?"

 

"Oh, that's right, it was _you_ who requested the daily updates…"

 

Jesse rolled his eyes. "Requested? More like _demanded_ and uh-yeah I figured I was entitled to a little, you know, reciprocation?"

 

"Entitled." Walt muttered with a low growl.

 

"Oh-really?! We're gonna do _this_ now?!"

 

Walt huffed a sigh and waved him down. "Okay okay, settle down. It's only been a week or so. I just finished…wrapping things up. Doesn't matter though, the damage is done, she's just being kind enough to let me spend _some_ of what time I've got left with the kids..."

 

"What does _that_ mean?" Jesse cut him off.

 

Walt had to think about what he was referring to for a second, he actually had not meant to let that slip. He blinked rapidly and tried playing off the confusion, "uh…Oh! Nothing, it's just - well - not inevitable but quite likely that, eventually the cancer will come back…at some point."

 

Jesse was chewing at his thumbnail, giving him a sidelong look. He offered the lit, half-joint to him casually. Walt looked around cautiously for a moment but shrugged, took a hit and passed it back.

 

"What about you? I'm surprised you didn't patch things up with Andrea, I mean I know you broke it off but, I figured, after you were out…?" he trailed off at Jesse's expression, "…sorry."

 

"No-yeah, I uh…okay, I kinda lied about that. I mean, I didn't break it off…it was more…the other way around."

 

"Oh…"

 

"Yeah…I told her, just enough-no details-just enough to kind of…let her make up her mind, and well…I don't blame her at all, in fact, in a way I think I kinda…thought more of her for it? She and Brock and her mom, they moved, it just sorta worked out that way, she was going to have to choose anyway, to go with her mom or stay in ABQ and after what I told her…That was a few months ago now."

 

They sat in morose silence for about a minute, each lost in their own thoughts.

 

"Well…at least I don't have to work with Todd anymore." Walt finally broke, trying to regain levity.

 

"No good?" Jesse asked, arching an eyebrow, feigning a sort of detached disappointment, setting his jaw and pressing his lips to suppress a snear.

 

"Well…" Walt rumbled, his expression going all soft as he played it up for Jesse's benefit, just a bit, "He's not you."

 

"So he don't got my mad skills eh?" Jesse said with exaggerated bravado, letting the curled lip spread into a smile and passing the joint again.

 

"Mmmmmm… it's was never exactly a question of skill set, after all, I can _more_ than make up for that." Walt returned, trying to keep a straight face now too. "It was just…" he narrowed his eyes as he inhaled, like he was trying to find the words, then passed it back, furrowed his brow, exhaled while turning his hands up in a helpless gesture and letting them fall defeatedly to his thighs . "He's no fun."

 

Jesse busted out laughing and coughing simultaneously through choked puffs of smoke, face reddened and eyes watering. It went on quite a while and Walt could swear Jesse seemed to be taking cover in the coughing fit for a moment and he watched as a distant, contemplative look crept over the young man before he snapped out of it with "Man…we need some real food, you gotta be hungry yeah? I am."

 

 

….….….

 

 

"What is this, a date, now?" Jesse said with a snort.

 

"I'm soooo sick of pizza." Walt groaned. "What's wrong with Thai?"

 

"Maybe we could track down a taco truck."

 

"In this neighborhood?"

 

"mmmm... what about Los-oh yeah, nevermind…"

 

"What?"

 

"Um, out of business…"

 

"Right, so…"

 

"Ok fine, Thai - but you're placing the order. Oh-but-hey, get some of those fried cream cheese wonton thingies."

 

The sun was getting low as they looked up delivery places inside, it was obvious neither of them was driving anywhere. Jesse rolled another and lit up, taking a deep hit before offering it to Walt who was just polishing off the last beer and looking at him skeptically. "Oh come on, grub's comming - enjoy it! Live a little!" he said, gesturing dramatically. By the time the delivery came they were both sufficiently intoxicated to find it hysterically funny that Jesse could not find enough denominations smaller than a hundred with which to pay the driver and in a half panicked and delirious state he swung the door open, grabbed the bags, stuffed two hundreds in the driver's hand and slammed the door calling "Keep the change!" They vied for control of the TV remote, one seizing it as the other was eating, until Jesse turned it to Animal Planet and tucked the remote away beside his thigh, "What?" he said, mouth full, "Discovery Channel! I'm trying to find something you'll relate to okay!?" It was a program on Bonobo monkeys and eventually they went from awkward silence to giggle fits, cracking dirty jokes.

 

Before the show was over Jesse was on the floor rifling through Playstation games. Decisively passing up the zombie and shooter variations he selected a racing game and proceeded to set it up declaring, "If you can win at this…okay… if you can manage to _not_ get totally killed at this, I will let you drive home."

 

Walt snorted with incredulous amusement, "Oh you'll _let_ me?"

 

Jesse fixed him with a challenging stare. "Where's your keys right now smart ass?" Walt blinked at him silently, then went for his pockets, came up empty. "Ah ha! Yeah, like David Blain & shit! You're not going anywhere old man, how ya like that?" He dropped the act abruptly, seeing Walt's shocked expression turn to a set jaw and lowered brows. "Seriously, you're in no way to drive, ok? It's all good, just crash here, there's room, I have…stuff…you can use. Chill." He fiddled with the game console, then the stereo system, selecting music, glanced at Walt who was now looking around the room, visibly still irritated. "You took them out when you went for your wallet, when you were insisting on paying for the food, I grabbed them off the coffee table." He spoke evenly, with an undercurrent of disappointment at the turn in mood, however he made no move to hand them over. Walt held his hand out, in the universal gesture, then made an exasperated noise and flopped back down on the couch when Jesse met it with a defiant "What?" look. As he sat looking sternly at Jesse, now engrossed in his playlist choices, his frustration waned with the realization that, foolish as it was, Jesse actually cared enough to try to stop him. Not the first time...he thought, this has been going so well, it's been…nice, actually…don't screw it up, he's just trying to do the right thing. Again. God-when exactly did that become his thing anyway? He had to stop underestimating this newfound level of maturity and thoughtfulness. Granted, the move had been a little opportunistic, maybe a bit devious but even that he had to give credit for.

 

"I'm fine to drive, Jesse. Trust me." he said softly.

 

"We shall let the game be the judge of that!" Jesse said, thrusting a controller at him. "But first…" he dropped to sit cross legged on the floor and began to rummage through a large steamer trunk Walt had surmised to be the official drug paraphernalia box, extracting a bong. The maturity meter dropped a bit.

 

"Huh…forgot I even had this…damn." Jesse muttered, almost to himself. He'd set the bong aside and was examining a small plastic packet containing a couple of small, white pills.

 

"What is it?" Walt asked. It came out more curious and less judgmental than he meant it to. Jesse was holding it up to the light, dangling it between his fingertips and peering at it with an intensely thoughtful expression, after an awkwardly long pause he flicked his gaze to Walt.

 

"It's X." he said and there was a gleam in his eyes like Walt should know what that meant. A beat and then, "Ecstasy."

 

"Oh." Walt said, like it was all clear now.

 

"You ever…?" Jesse broke off with a grin and a little shake of his head like it was the most ridiculous question ever.

 

"No…um, LSD once and mushrooms - 'shrooms'? - a few times, back in college…." Walt shrugged noncommittally. "So…what's it like?" Jesse was giving him a little nod of surprised approval and an evaluating look.

 

"Oh it's…similar… not as um, trippy… but it's a lot of fun…" He huffed a soft little laugh, closed the lid of the box and leaned languidly across the top. He swung the little bag back and forth slightly, almost hypnotically, watching it as he spoke, drawing the words out slowly, his voice smokey and low "…just um, _feels_ good. Really… _really_ good, like…totally relaxed, all…at one with the universe  & shit …but notzonked out or anything, you know, energetic but not, um…not _wired_ …" he sighed a little. "Sound, light… _sensations_ …are all… _enhanced_ , hence, you know, the name." When he finally slid his gaze slowly to Walt it was half lidded and sultry but brief, then his eyes were darting between the bag and Walt, back and forth, he chewed his lip a little while, stared at the pills, like he was waiting for them to speak to him, then the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly and he turned to Walt with a sort of finality and the gleam in his eyes had gone reckless, "You wanna?"

 

Maybe it was the beer and the pot, Walt did not instantly refuse. Maybe it was the oddly enticing way Jesse had of offering. So casually worded, so loaded with promise and laced with warning. Damn, Walt thought, natural born pusher. He stared at the little white pills in the bag, innocent looking, like baby aspirin. He tilted his head to one side. "If I die tonight, will you promise to make sure that Saul handles my affairs, make sure the money gets to my family?" His tone was serious but held no real apprehension, more like he was entrusting Jesse with the keys to his condo and not his life.

 

Jesse snickered. "You're not gonna die. C'mon…Cancer…? Chemo…? Cartels…? Pffft, naaw man, it'll take a lot more than this to kill _you_." His tone was teasing, it made Walt feel a bit like a cockroach but he leveled a demanding look at the young man, raised an eyebrow.

 

"Of course, I promise. Jeez, like I wouldn't anyway. But you don't need to worry…you know - aaaactually, there's studies & shit that show it can be quite therapeutic." Jesse said with an absurdly scholarly air, "…yeah, _long term quality of life_ benefits, even for like, people with cancer - No - for _real_! Google it dammit!" he broke off laughing  & a bit embarrassed at Walt's exaggerated look of mock-enlightenment.

 

Walt held out his hand, open palm up. "Ok sooo…" Jesse said, hopping up from the floor and depositing one pill, "don't chew it up or anything & don't swallow it right away, just let it sorta _dissolve_. We have awhile before it kicks in." Jesse went into the kitchen as Walt looked at the pill for a moment, then glanced at Jesse's turned back, he took note of the design printed on the back of his t-shirt, a pair of ragged, bloodied looking black wings, took a deep breath and popped it in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue. Somewhere deep in his brain someone screamed at him to spit it out immediately. He acknowledged that he could…but he didn't…and every second that went by where he could spit it out, but chose not to, stoked up his defiance as he mentally squashed the perfectly sensible fear that was fighting for control. Jesse returned with his laptop and phone, sat on the futon beside him, clicking and scrolling and surveying the screen and absently popped the second pill in his mouth, utterly oblivious to Walt's epic internal struggle. Jesse dialed a number read off the screen and sat listening. "What are you doing?" Walt asked, careful not to dislodge the pill. "Finding a place to deliver grocery type shit, I wanna make sure we're stocked." Walt's eyes widened. Was he going to be stuck on a psychedelic trip for days? So high out of his mind that he'd be trapped in Jesse's house with him, unable to even find the front door? "It's just that sometimes you get really thirsty on this stuff, it's good to have plenty of water, fruit juice  & shit like that...bananas for the uh…poota…posse …um…" he snapped his fingers at Walt expectantly. "Potassium." Walt supplied robotically. Jesse nodded, silently gave a "nailed it" gesture and Walt felt a reflexive urge to pop-quiz him on electrolytes but Jesse began placing his order over the phone.

 

 

….….….

 

 

"No no no you're just pushing the buttons wrong, here - le'me - c'mon - gi'mme your hands - gi'mme! You can't do both at the same time. Silly. Forward…reverse - see?" It took a little while for Walt to get the hang of the controller, more than a little coaxing and cajoling from Jesse to overcome his exasperation at actually having to take direction from the younger man but eventually he was able to avoid careening off overpasses and spinning out over curbs and into buildings. Soon enough, he was successfully speeding his digital acid-green muscle car around the digital urban wasteland and giving Jesse a decent enough run for his money. He was feeling pleased enough with himself that he firmly insisted on paying for the delivered groceries even as he concluded that the service was making an unfair killing exploiting the stoned and the elderly. He figured the effects of the drug had to be kicking in because the music was actually becoming enjoyable. Jesse had kept the volume on everything low at first, so Walt could hear his directions and explanations, but as Walt progressed he had cranked up the stereo, preferring the music to the game's sound effects, which, Walt guessed, he himself would have found far more irritating than the base-heavy rhythms that now seemed to be vibrating through the very cells of his body. As their competition grew more intense they had gone from sitting back on the couch, to perched on the edge of it, to standing in front of it, controllers in hand. In his peripheral vision, Walt noticed that Jesse would occasionally move in time to the music. Not really dancing, a tapping foot here, a sway of his hips there, a more graceful and deliberately timed spin on his normal movements. It was effortless, casual, and only sporadic at first, when he was most relaxed in the game or was in the act of doing something else, grabbing them drinks, lighting a cigarette, shifting furniture around, but the rhythmic movements became increasingly consistent and uninhibited, to the point that Walt found himself uncomfortably stealing glances from the corner of his eye.

 

Which was probably why he was suddenly watching one pixel pedestrian getting mowed under his front tires and another flying over his hood and into his windshield, from both driver and third person perspective on the massive, split-view screen. He froze as the scene replayed in his mind, long buried imagery unearthing itself and splicing grotesquely with the game, his pretend vehicle rolled along without him and ran off the road, plowing into an embankment where it seemed to sit and mock him. He stood blinking, blank faced, at the screen's flashing colors and gradually realized that beside him, Jesse had frozen in place but he could feel those eyes darting back and forth from him to the screen. Slowly and simultaneously their heads turned, eyes met. Jesse's eyes were wide, the changing, colored lights from the screen and the stereo refracted chaotically in them and washed half his face in a shifting glow. Walt was distracted for a moment by the sort of subtly surreal beauty of it before he recognized the expression on Jesse's face, the "I've just done something horribly stupid Mr. White please forgive me." look. Jesse swallowed hard "I'm so sorry." he said. Walt couldn't really make out his voice over the music but he knew the way in which that mouth formed those words well enough, he just couldn't figure out why it was doing so at this moment. Jesse grabbed the sound system remote and turned down the volume.

 

"I'm so sorry, Mr. White, I wasn't thinking…shit... thought this would be a good choice, I didn't mean for… _that_. Oh god."

 

Walt shook his head, looking confused. He had collected himself already and had thought, hoped, that he'd simply hallucinated the whole thing or that Jesse hadn't actually seen what happened, hadn't seen his reaction, hadn't made any connection. Was he possibly talking about something else altogether?

 

"What - that?" Walt motioned at the screen, Jesse looked away, fidgeted at the back of his neck. Walt frantically put on his very best reassuring father figure routine, "Oh no, no, no, Jesse it's just a game. Don't be silly, that was nothing! How could you even - there's absolutely nothing to worry about…" He may have laid it on a bit thick.

 

Jesse now looked somewhat appalled by the bullshit act, he gave an anguished sigh, "C'mon. Don't." he said, "I'm sorry, I really am." He moved to the console, ready to shut it down.

 

"Jesse, Jesse…Jesse." Walt repeated his name insistently until he turned back and then he looked him in the eye, held his gaze firmly.

" _I_ am _not_." He said emphatically, meaningfully. "I would do it again. In a heartbeat."

 

Jesse was still and silent a moment, it looked like his eyes were starting to well up, then he looked away quickly, seemed like he wanted to say something but couldn't get it out, couldn't look Walt in the eye. Walt had a sense of where this was going so he pressed on quickly, changing course.

 

"It just took me by surprise, that's all, mostly. I wasn't really paying attention, now come on, I'm not done here…" he made an all encompassing gesture at the setup with his controller.

 

"You still wanna play?"

 

"Damn right." Walt grinned at him. "You got me started, I'm not giving up now. Not until I win."

 

Jesse straightened up and moved back beside him, picking up his controller, "Well… alright then, round two. Or is it three?…um...four?…" he smirked.

 

Walt gave him a mock scowl, "I _am_ going to beat your ass one way or another." he growled. Jesse startled a little at the play threat, eyes widening, but quickly put on his game face.

 

"Oh yea? Bring it…" he said, letting the rasp in his voice drop low and cranking up the stereo again.

 

….….….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
